


Saving Ishmael

by Saya_Star



Category: Gravity Falls, Xiaolin Showdown (Cartoon)
Genre: Gen, Moby Dick References
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-26
Updated: 2017-03-15
Packaged: 2018-09-22 21:14:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9625580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saya_Star/pseuds/Saya_Star
Summary: Jack swears up and down that this is some messed-up version of Moby Dick... except he's hoping that two out of the three characters' endgame - Ishmael, Captain Ahab and Queequeg - won't repeat itself in real life. He also hopes that he would actually gain a hit on the yellow-skinned Moby Dick itself... emphasis on its last name.Lighthouse Keeper AU crossover story with Xiaolin Showdown





	1. Captain Ahab

**Author's Note:**

  * For [impish_nature](https://archiveofourown.org/users/impish_nature/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Lighthouse Keeper AU](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/262961) by impish-nature. 



> The Lighthouse Keeper AU is made by impish-nature together with GarrulousGibberish first intro on Tumblr.  
> There will be references from a classic book, Moby Dick by Herman Melville. I figure this will fit in well with the Lighthouse AU since it involves in hunting/saving to the point of obsession. I don't own 'Moby Dick', Gravity Falls, Xiaolin Showdown or Rick and Morty.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In another Universe with Jack/Marise included, he wounds up becoming an arms-dealer and Lee is the Lighthouse Keeper. Arming him with aquatic weapons it appears Lee is getting ready for a war at sea...
> 
> I do not own Gravity Falls or Xiaolin Showdown.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be prepare for various time jumps!

 

_Kids… if you should go up to that lighthouse while the light shines one direction, do me a favor… make sure it stays lit. And don’t be scared yea? Don’t want no shadow monster feedin’ on ya by any means. Don’t believe anything it whispers to ya. And remember: When the light shines bright, that means me, your Grunkle Stan and the lighthouse’s friendly ghost is with ya._

Jack had purposefully told the young Pines twins this in case they ever able to go upstairs to the lighthouse. Stan telling them scary stories about it are all well and good as a keep-away but they’re kids for cripes sake. That means unlimited curiosity and limited fear especially when they’re related to the man he’s working with. Right now, Dipper and Mabel are hanging out with Wendy giving Jack clear passage to the lighthouse unaccompanied. Going to the car to pick up his Camo bag filled with bullets and hand grenades as the rain began coming down upon him, he hopes they would understand why tonight he and Stan need to go out to sea on a mere sailboat. Soos would look after them. He even gained walkies-talkie for him and Jack in case the light needs to be on. Stan would forgive him for letting another one in on their secret... if they survive. As he races off towards the building behind the shack, his mind keeps on replaying the events that led him to this epic mission of mass proportions...

 

He never would’ve guessed that in his life he’ll be working somewhere that recommends him to bring as many weapons as he can carry. But then again, he never would’ve seen himself quitting the Wu hunt, his goal for world domination and showing off to Chase Young through his parents.

At the beginning of his new life as ‘Marise Alloway’, his business strictly revolves around weaponry. He steers clear of robot-making for fear of getting a tip towards his whereabouts for the seekers of the Wus. Making and collecting as many weapons as he can muster for an eager accumulator or a soldier in need of a noble cause is his new game. Jack knows that a ‘noble cause’ depends on a person’s view of the world. It can truly be the case like in WW2 or it cannot like the Children’s Crusade. So, he tends to get picky about who he gives; the ones with questionable information or purpose are the ones he doesn’t hand out. Even now he questions if the Xiaolin’s conflict against the Heylin and vice-versa is important enough to contribute. On one hand, yeah there are magical items that need to be kept away. However, the said items are kept in the vault on each side which anyone – and _everyone_ – can break in and steal. In his opinion, they should’ve just _destroyed_ those things before the next Armageddon comes knocking. They’re like the magical version of vehicles; handy if used properly but without knowing if its long-term effects will bite you in the pants until the last minute.

He’s quite an arms-dealer across the state and at some point, across dimensions. Jack still gloats at Sanchez for being the one to find a rare rifle gun before him. Ironically enough, he barely shoots them outside installing robots in the past. The closest thing to using them himself is when demonstrating to his customers or testing his handmade ones. In situations where he needs to protect himself, he had to put out a threatening, complex weapon and they run off before the trigger pulled. Other times, he relies on his installed security in which if a gun is drawn, it would automatically fire at the shooter. He never thought of personally using them for anything else… until he gained a phone call from Oregon in 2009. At first, the man on the other side asks about all kinds of weapons he keeps. Never request what he wants. Always talking about all the details in privy to a specific weapon. Sitting on the desk the exchange continues for a few months. The caller’s main concern it seems is whether it can be used in water. With that in mind, Jack starts to research, gather and build all kinds of undersea weapons and weapons used on ships. As he suspects, with each aquatic defense he references, the caller became more interested. One day in September 2010, Jack is describing how he made an underwater heat seeker on his own when the caller interrupts him:

“I’m ready ta buy.”

Jack pauses and smirks: Jackpot. “Oh, _finally_ interested in purchasing my handiworks?” He chuckles while pulling out a notepad and pen from the dresser. “I knew I’d getcha eventually! How many weapons- “

“All of it.”

Jack drops his pen. He looks at the phone, mouth wide open in shock as he chokes out, _“A…’all of it’??”_

“Down to the last bullet. I want all the weapons ya carry water-wise… and I want ya to come here an’ show me how ta use ‘em. It’s been a long time since I shoot one o’ those things."

Jack swallows down his excitement, “O-of course!! How soon do you want them?” He probably should’ve been more suspicious as to _why_ the caller wants to clean out his supplies but damn had he hit the Mega-Jackpot! Late at night, he placed all the weapons at the back of his tinted green station wagon. He drove all the way from California to Oregon with few stops on the way. When he reaches the address in the morning, he pulls up to a cabin next to the lighthouse. He gets out of the car hearing the wave and smelling the salt from the ocean. He tightens his green camo hoodie as the cold front comes in. A thick grey sweater, black-starred jeans and boots with thick socks can only keep you warm for so long. At the front porch is an elderly man wearing a dark blue captain’s suit with golden buttons, a dark blue tie and a sailor’s hat with a fish shape at the center. His hands are behind his back looking grim. He adjusts his glasses, “Let see whatcha got, kid.”

“I’m older than I look,” Jack states. “And I’m less straight and narrow than I look.” The captain responds and immediately went towards the trunk of the car. Jack lifts his eyebrows and took out his keys. Opening the trunk reveals different kinds of weapons: harpoons, rifles, a shotgun, different shapes of grappling hooks and a rocket shooter. In the green camo duffle bag, it carries bullets and hand grenades. “Sooo… is it to your liking?” Jack asks as the captain looks at the pile. “I don’t have the underwater heat seeker with me; already been sold. I can go back and make one if you want.”

The captain continues inspecting, holding a gun, weighing it and aiming something towards the ocean. “Nah, it’ll do kid.” He places it down and gestures towards the lighthouse. “Get ‘em over here eh?” Jack look towards where he’s pointing at: the lighthouse looks more ancient up close. After Jack drove his wagon there, both men start unpacking the bags and weapons. The man walks in as Jack follows him behind. Jack looks up toward the building’s rotting stairs squinting, “Does it ever light up?” The captain pauses mid-step and turns his head to him, “It did… once. But it’s gonna light up again.” And with that, he continues guiding him to drop off the weapons inside at the first floor. Setting the stuff on the ground, the captain explains the rules.

During the day, Jack will pose as a janitor alongside Soos whom he’ll introduce later. Jack will handle stocking up supplies, cleaning products, light bulbs and any nautical items he finds whenever he goes to the beach or antique store.

When the Shack close and everyone’s gone, he and the captain will start learning how to use all the weapons. The captain set up a target on cement blocks he’d found from the dump.

The weapons will, of course, be kept in a safe place and not be taken out without Stan’s presence.

“And _most importantly,_ ” here is where the captain became serious, “ ** _Do not_** under **_any_** circumstances go upstairs without me being there wit’ ya. **Not even at night, _got it?”_**

Jack, thinking about the rickety stairs, nervously nods. The captain looks satisfied. “Hey, you never told me your name. Unless you want to be called ‘Captain Ahab’.” Jack comments as he places bundles of harpoons next to the staircase.

The elder man looks at him amused, “It’s Cap’n _Stanford Pines_ ta ya, ya brat.”

 

_October 2010..._

“Maurice!”

“It’s pronounced _Marise!_ _Fix your hearing aid!!_ ” The roar of the waves hadn't stopped his voice reaching towards Stan (Jack refuses to call him by full name; doesn't seem to fit with his nature) in front of him on the beach. It’s evening and the moon is full it may as well be daylight instead. Stan smiles bright, covering his ear to catch Jack’s voice, “Sorry; can’t hear ya over the racket! Can ya repeat that!”

“I HAVE A LOADED GUN AND I’M NOT AFRAID TO USE IT ON YOU.”

Stan crossing his arms just smirks, “Then say ‘Adios’ to that check you earn outta me!” Jack growls and without warning, fires at the annoying captain. Well… the crude drawing of the ‘captain’ taped on a cinder block. A bullet went on the side of the cube missing the target for the seventh time. “Aw, too bad _Maurice_! Better luck _neva’-Whoawhoawhoa!_ ” Stan ran towards Jack as he was about to throw the gun in the sand. He grabs his arm, “Whoa, kid! You’re gonna set it off doin’ that!” Jack clings to his arm but the man easily managed to take the gun away from him. “Geeze! Whatta ya; some kinda monkey or somethin’?”

Jack scowls loosening himself out of his grip and rubbing his hand, “Bet even a monkey can shoot better than me,” Captain Stan snorts, “Kid, you’re better at shootin’ than _any_ monkeys. You just need to work on ya aim.”  
“I’m not a kid.”  
  
“’Course not. Now come ova here,” The waves continue forth as Jack went with Stan across the beach. Stan then stops and faces the target, the gun now poised for the shooting. “Now I’m sure you’d seen cowboys and gangsters use both their eyes to hit a bull’s eye? Well, that’s how ya aim the wrong way.” He positions himself holding the shotgun out and looking at the drawing. “The _right_ way is ta use one that you trust will getcha the bull’s eye…” Stan closes his right eye – the left one is his reliable 'scope eye'. “Line up the bump at the gun’s edge to the spot ya going for…” He’s pointing to the hat part of the picture. “Concentrate ‘til the right moment and…” Stan squeeze the trigger and - BANG! - the shot rang, the bullet now wedged into ‘Stan’s hat’. He cocks the shotgun and passes it; the grip frame facing towards Jack. “Your turn.”

Jack stares and snatches it from Stan; a cry of alarm and caution. Jack faces the drawing with one hand- “Hey, use both hands. The one hand is when ya got more practice in.” …uses _both_ hands on the trigger. He looks at the target closing his right eye, takes his time lining up the end of the barrel then fires. He manages to hit the paper however the recoil got him to hit the empty spot near the right cheek. “Heh, cutting too close for comfort. Ya almost got my good side!”

“I thought before you said you don’t _have_ a good side.” Jack went over to the block picking up the empty shell on the way. He could hear Stan mockingly repeats what was said as he inspects the hole. It was right underneath the chin. Jack turns and spots the lighthouse; its darkness from the window guiding only more darkness towards it despite the moon’s light. It has been months since he arrives in Gravity Shores and he has yet to completely investigate the entire lighthouse. The farthest he’s been inside is on the first floor to pick out a weapon to practice on. Whenever Jack tries to sneak past Stan towards the steps, one of three happens to him: he was carried over Stan's shoulders, pushed out with little difficulty or a mere glare that said, 'Don't even think about it' in his bad moods. He squints trying to catch any shape that may be near its view. He doesn’t understand why he couldn’t just take a quick peek or why it wasn’t open in public. You would think a tourist trap can take advantage of its mysterious-

Something appears at the window going across the room above. Jack’s eyes widen as he caught sight of something bright like it was a torch. He ran towards Stan as he kneels, placing more bullets in the shotgun. “Hey! Hey Ahab!” Stan moans, “Must ya _call_ me that?”

Jack points at the building frantically, “Turn around, turn around quick! _The lighthouse!!_ ” Stan snaps his head towards it (Jack knows its creepy but to see the terror on Stan’s face…) as he sees… nothing. Stan shifts his eyes quickly from window to window, “Wha’ am I lookin’ at here?” Jack follows his gaze at the lighthouse, “There was a light up there; a flashlight! I think someone just went up!”

“…Are you sure your mind’s not playin’ wit’ cha? ‘Cause I don’t see anything.” Stan is slowly become more relaxed by the second.

Jack turns to Stan, “It was there! Really! A bright light moved across the window like its alive!”

Stan got up with a groan, “Well, whateva’ it was, it’s gone now. Maybe it’s a reflection of a passin' speedboat.” He turns and aims towards the block; his left eye closes. He takes aim- “We should go up there and check.” Stan slowly faces Jack. Jack shrugs, “Ya know, in case someone snuck up on a dare or somethin’.” Stan puts down the shotgun and looks at Jack unimpressed, “Wow, tryin’ to convince me to go upstairs for an ‘intruder’. Clever.”

 _“It could happen!”  
_ “An’ I made sure it neva’ did. It’s a small fisherman’s town who believes in old wives’ tales especially the ones I made up. Nobody is interested in going inside a collapsin’ place which I made sure _everyone_ knew about. No way in all o’ the boats in the world would anyone eva’ think of goin’ near a _broken_ _lighthouse._ ”

Jack huffs crossing his arms irritated. He does have a point; for every tourist that is curious enough to ask, Stan would just tell them the stairs rotted and except for the light, there’s nothing but unoccupied spaces. The townsfolk just let it be for as anyone who mentions it, Stan gets in a dark disposition. Jack knew it was a load of bull since the first day he came or at least part of it is; the stairs are in walkable conditions. What was it about the abandoned second floor that Stan wouldn’t let him see? Speaking of bull… Jack looks on as Stan is about to fire at the block again. At the beginning, the captain said that he needed help in practicing… and yet so far, he handled the sniper, the shotgun, the grappling hooks and to an extent the harpoon (he can only throw it) in less time it takes Jack to conquer them. It seems that the one who’s really training is _Jack_. Doesn't know how that con-artist could talk him into this...

“Hey, pay attention!” Stan gestures to a spot next to him holding the sniper, “Ya can sleep when I tell ya to!” Jack went towards him, “Aye, aye Cap’n Ahab.”

“Gonna keep calling me tha' eh?”  
“I gained the right to call you whatever I want since you started calling me _Maurice_.”

 

As they return back to the shack, Jack remembers what he was meant to inquire. He couldn't believe it took this long to ask.

"So Ahab,"  
"Maurice."  
"...Why do you need all these weapons? You hunting or something?"  
"Or Something."  
"...You're not telling me are ya?"  
"Don't worry kid, I'm not gonna kill anybody. That's way behind me."  
"...What if I don't believe you?"  
"Then you're just gonna have ta trust me. I didn't try to kill ya no matter how nosy ya get did I?"  
And that was all Jack had gotten from Stan on the matter.

(Oddly enough, he _does_ trust him. ...Then again, he had a nasty habit of trusting bad folks outside his family...)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this would be an interesting thing to consider - Lee actually hiring a gunman to help him.


	2. Ishmael

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack's patience had run out. He went up the stairs to confront the specter of the lighthouse. Instead, he happens to come across... Stan!?
> 
> I don't own Gravity Falls, Xiaolin Showdown or Moby Dick.

 

_February 2011..._

Jack squints upward; his tint squared sunglasses on his face protecting him from the bright sun. It's still winter near the sea so he's wearing a swirling-galaxy printed black sweater, black jeans, thick dark-blue gloves and a pair of waterproof leather boots. Around his neck is a sparkling navy scarf and on his head is a matching set with a poof on top given at Christmas from Soos. No idea why he'd done that other than getting into the spirit of things. The wind swirls around as he narrows his eyes at the window; up at the second floor, a light floats to and fro. He saw it better during nighttime than the day where the sunlight barely camouflaged it.  Ever since he spotted the light upstairs last year, the appearance continues to grow with only Jack as a sole witness. During Winter, Jack and the Captain didn't go outside to practice often because of cold weather. Jack had closed his weapons shop by December and moved to a rental near the shack after he'd come to realize Stan is not gonna let him go until he knows Jack can handle a gun. It didn't stop Jack from exploring the fishing town and the beach; sometimes with Soos or Wendy. Every time he goes out passing the lighthouse, the light wanders in. And every chance that's presented, he drags the captain out only to quickly vanish from sight. It doesn't stop Stan from staring up like it's about to attack him. Surely Stan at this point had investigated the sightings of the orb by now. He had to have seen it! He may have pretended the anomalies and the supernatural isn't happening but that's not to say he's in denial. Plus, he’s very curious about the second floor; he can’t help it! The machinations of the lighthouse are something that’s begging to explore! This is now week number four... he decides enough was enough.

This night on Wednesday, Stan was too sick to do his night routine so he forced him to stay in bed at the shack and rest. Soos went out with his Grandma for Bingo and Wendy is babysitting her brothers. "No use tryin' to boss me around when you're too woozy to tell which is me and which isn't." he had stated. Grumpily, Stan took some medicine and Jack drags Stan into the upstairs bedroom facing the deck. Jack waited at his bedside until Stan had begun to close his eyes and quietly went out and close the door.

He went straight to his office and using his earring from his left ear picked the lock.

After carefully going through drawers, bookshelves, and desk making minimum changes - finding an old man magazine of gold watches and some medications - he looks up at the wall where a singing salmon sits. He remembers Soos asking if he could press the button to hear it sing. Stan automatically said that it was broken and couldn't sing a tune. Jack pressed the button on the board... and it flips up to reveal a box of junk and more importantly the keys to the lighthouse. He took it, closed the safe and went out the office making sure he locks it back. He grabbed his jacket containing his flashlight and went out the door into the night, his boots spraying sand behind him. Once he reached the lighthouse, he unlocks it and pushes the door open; its usual echoing creaks throughout the building. Going through the weapons pile, Jack chose the shotgun. He's gotten better at the shooting even though he's having problems with the recoil but one _chik-chik_ from it should scare whoever it is off. Hopefully.

Holding the flashlight in one hand and the shotgun balancing in the other, Jack slowly ascends towards the second floor. With each step, he carefully made sure he doesn't land on a noisy stair... without much success. Once again, the light illuminates at the top. He pauses mid-step... maybe he should forget about this whole thing. Maybe there's a faulty lamp or something. He should just turn around but... there's something about the light that almost reminds him of Wuya. She was a former Heylin witch who got reduced to a harmless ghost which annoys him by passing through his body without permission along other things. If there's a ghost up there, he should be fine especially since he had something against them. With that in mind, Jack walked on with careful confidence. He reached a room, shining the flashlight towards the middle to spot a person aiming a gun at him. He jumps then realizes that it was only the huge metal refracting towards him. Jack lowers the gun towards the floor slowing down his heart rate as he deliberately shown around the room. Behind it, he finds jam-packed shelves of piled papers and books underneath the desk. The second flight of stairs leads further upward towards the lamp. He steps deliberately; keeping his ears open for any footsteps and noises. He reaches to the circular desk tripping over a leather chair. His hand still gripping the shotgun but his other hand holding the flashlight lands on the surface of the table; stopping his fall. Gritting his teeth from the pain, Jack lifts his hand and adjusts his eyes at one of the paper.

Jack can make out writings of what it appears to be scribbles next to a diagram of… the lamp… He looks behind, setting the shotgun on the chair, and pick up the sheet. It looks to be symbols from alchemic times he saw from a book. Maybe these are incantations that protect the lighthouse, Jack thought. He went upstairs to the lamp; the scent of the salty water lingers. Squinting against the light bouncing from the flashlight to the glass, he searches for the symbols placed upon the paper. Jack searches along the glass globe above him, the structured walls, the lamp’s base, the door with a small window. He even checked outside of the balcony to see if the symbols are engraved sideways the dirtied white walls. After he rubs his charm for safety and guts of course; it was dark out with barely enough moonlight coming through the clouds. When he finished the search with no success, Jack walks slowly back downstairs to the second floor and sat heavily on the chair; moving the shotgun down to the floor. He looks dejectedly at the enigmatic diagram. Figures this is one of Stan’s tricks for coming inside without him.

_Click_

Jack lifts his head slowly, praying that his ears hadn’t picked up-

_Click-click_

Jack blindly reach for the shotgun desperately while his eyes are staring straight at the two passageways, mostly the downstairs one.

 _Click-click click-click_ the sound continues to grow louder while Jack scrambles for the gun clinching the flashlight. His hand shaking making the light dance around in all directions. Finally, he found the gun and quickly aims forward when suddenly a light came shining brightly from above. Covering his eyes, he drops his flashlight and gun. The gun went off as it hits the ground. Jack quickly feels himself for injuries while adjusting his eyes to the brightness. He sighs heavily with relief until he realizes that shot might of damage the bulb. He was about to search for the bullet hole…

…And right in front of him is Stan.

 **_‘STAN!!!’_** He scrambles to his feet, picking up the shotgun and flashlight turned off. Both figures standing still, staring at each other with only Jack’s heavy breathing occupying the silent room. He faintly studies the clothes Stan is wearing: a long dirty brown lab coat with a pocket protector on the left underneath is a white-collared red sweater and black pants. On his face, there’s a pair of glasses with a cracked lens on the left. The expression is… troublingly unreadable as his back is hunched. _‘Huh, Stan must have been in a hurry of getting up here.’_ Jack thought to himself.

“…what are you doing up here?”

Ah damn, of all the questions he could ask… “Um, I’m so, so, so sorry Mr. Pines, sir! I didn’t mean to come up! I was just wondering about the lighthouse and I know you don’t want anyone up here but I have to know about it and the light bulb and the gun and the shot and I’m so sor-“

“Young man, calm yourself. I’m not mad.” Jack looks closely at the tired-looking man. Sure enough, he was right. The man appears kinda anxious. “I just wasn’t expecting _anyone_ to come up here this late let alone _at all._ ”

“…Well, like I said I was curious about it. I thought I was gonna check it out before you woke up.” Jack explains, “Wish I’d known you were a light sleeper.” He looks around the lit-up room again, noticing the light source is above him. And there on the ceiling is where the symbols are! It was in a circular formation separating each other in their own section; shining directly at Stan.

Stan spoke up again, sternly, “Ok, you’ve seen what it is, young man. Now you must leave immediately.”

Jack looks at him and scoffs setting the gun aside, “’Young man’? What, no more ‘Maurice’, Ahab? Finally, gonna give up on saying my other name?”

Stan’s eyebrows lift in confusion, “Maurice isn’t your name?” Suddenly, his back straightens up and starts to turn his head left to right. Jack swears Stan’s widen eyes and tighten muscles made himself a movie character out of a horror film. Then quietly, “Don’t tell me your real name then. It’s not safe to do so here.”

This guy sure is forgetful at times. Didn’t he agree not to a while back when the idiot Vlad found him and made trouble? Stan had a nice chat with him AKA informs him of his old acquaintance with a mob (one that Vlad apparently involves with) not to bug Jack in any way, shape, and form ever again. Also, asked politely to not expose Jack and his whereabouts to anyone AKA threaten him. Afterwards, Stan told him that so long as no one else knows where he is, Maurice ( ** _“Marise!!”_** ) Alloway is his real name. Jack became his nickname as he is a ‘Jack of all trades’. Jack thanked him by punching him in the shoulder. “That didn’t hurt,” Stan informed him as a way of saying ‘You’re Welcome.’ Jack liked to think he’s getting the hang of his Stan-ese but now…

Jack rolled his eyes, “Well, duh. You said so yourself you won’t, remember? Only Ja-“  
_“DON’T!!”_ Jack jumps as Stan suddenly raised his voice panicked. What’s his problem? Jack held his hands out, his flashlight still in his grip. “Okay _okay!_ Sheesh! Then what _are_ ya gonna call me Ahab? You can’t even say Marise right…” Then as an afterthought, “Don’t call me Maurice.”

Stan nods and looks up thoughtfully closing his eyes, his hands moving within his pockets. Jack looked at his watch; it’s getting to be 10:45 in the evening. After a few moments, he slowly suggested, “…How about… If I call you… Queequeg?” Jack squinted his eyes wondering where the name came from then widens recalling, “Ohh, you mean like when I call ya Ahab of Moby Dick? Cute.”

Stan grimace sheepishly, “I’m more of an Ishmael, to be honest,” He then gave Jack an unrelenting stare, “Now Queequeg, you really need to leave. I don’t want you-“  
“But why?” Jack flung both his arms in the air, indicating the nearly empty space. “Besides the creaks and other creepy noises, there’s nothing dangerous up here!”  
“Don’t be too sure on that! It’s good fortune the creature is asleep tonight!”  
  
“’The creature?’ Getting into your story _before_ the Shack opens?” It’s with that Stan looks around the room expecting some monster to just pop out, his body stiffens. Jack drops his arms and gaped mouth staring at the elder. It’s like he came to believe his own story. Jack closes his mouth and stares back with determination to prove that he can take what is dished out. “Look if you’re so worried about me, I _do_ have a shotgun and a flashlight.” Jack shows a flashlight with a key-chain attached to it, swinging lightly.  
  
Stan looked like he’s about to say something until he eyed on the charm key-chain. He contemplates it, then Stan slowly states, “…I suppose so long as you have it and that I accompany you…” he nods stiffly. “…Very well. You can come up here but when it’s time for you to leave, I want you to not turn around until you reach the Shack. I’ll… I’ll follow you later after I close the room.”  
Jack supposed he can’t blame him for doing so. He’d made sure someone who saw his project will leave quickly as possible before anyone else saw too. “If it gets ya to let me come up here that’s fine.”

 

_July 2011..._

"And I know they’re trying – I _know_ they are – but I felt like it’s too little too late at times. My parents missed out on a lot of things or they’re there for me but at the same time, they’re… not. The only ones who _know_ me are my old nanny, my third-grade teacher, granny from my dad’s side and my annoying cousin. You know when my parents finally started _acting_ like parents? When I got seriously hurt to the point of going to the hospital." Jack is sitting down on the wheeled leather chair, pouring his heart out at 'Stan' while the sky is clear enough to see the stars.

He said it in quotes as he discovered that this Stan’s just a hologram created by himself and Soos. After all, in his own improvising way, Soos is something of a mechanic genius; he made an electronic cuckoo clock in the wood shop to prove it. How advanced the con-artist had gotten to scam more money out of tourists. The digital interaction is very realistic in comparison to the ones found at expensive amusement parks. Jack was annoyed that he didn't just _tell_ him but maybe the real Stan want it to be a surprise when ready thus explains his nervousness. And so, a new routine was added: whenever Stan is not up for target practice, Jack instead heads up to the lighthouse to meet up with 'Stan' and then to his rental home. He gotta say in the evenings, he's more understanding towards him and less exasperating than during daytime. Perhaps this is a hidden side of Stan Pines he's too embarrassed to show in public.

In late March, Jack snatched the key to the lighthouse's padlock with Wendy as the lookout and went to a key-smith for a duplicate. He got caught while returning it back to Stan but thought it was the first attempt so he was off the hook. Nights when Jack came by, he uses his own key, grabs the shotgun and climbs upstairs with his flashlight on. He sat on the leather chair, placing the shotgun nearby and waits until the clicking noises start; lighting up the place revealing 'Stan' in his usual worn scientist outfit. Gradually, 'Stan' had gotten comfortable in his company although he still looks around to see if they’re alone. It wasn’t until June that Jack had found a common subject interest: science. He was only commenting on how this lighthouse intrigues him, how despite its purpose doesn’t seem to work similarly as the others he’d read up on. ‘Stan’ then mentioned his findings on other lighthouses across the globe while comparing this one to others. Suddenly they start talking about structures and types of the heat source for the lamp. Jack asked how this lighthouse been built but ‘Stan’ tensed up. He switched subjects to what they studied in college. For Jack are mechanics and engineering as a backup plan in case his small-arms dealing fell through (he didn’t mention him being an arms dealer.). For ‘Stan’, he’d studied many kinds to a point where he held 12 PHDs. Which impressed and surprised Jack; the real Stan didn’t look the type to enjoy college education that much. His main interest is studying anomalies and other supernatural events. “And that’s where the symbols came from to make the lighthouse work,” Jack guessed. ‘Stan’ didn’t agree or disagree.

Tonight, Jack really needed someone to vent at. His parents came down for a 2-week’s visit to see him, his new location and job. When Stan told them Marise’s been working for him at the Shack, his parents, while a bit troubled, are mostly relieved Jack had quit the arms business. Said the only reason why they agreed to it in the first place is that Jack said he’d only sold them to collectors. If they’re _that_ worried, shouldn’t they just say no… or did they humored him like in the past? With that in mind, he storms across the beach after Stan went to sleep, jams the key in the lock and ran upstairs without the shotgun. He sat down hard, drumming his fingers on the armrest waiting impatiently. He eyed his dark reflection; he’s wearing a lightweight silver jacket with diagonal lines on each arm sleeve. Underneath, a black t-shirt with gold stars spread out is showing from his unzipped jacket. He picks at his black embroidered-pattern jeans; its swirls on the waist hidden within his reflection’s dim background. His hand showing his Wu-detector watch is on his cheek. His boots can be heard tapping on the floor. The clicking noise finally came along with ‘Stan’ and almost immediately Jack started his venting.

When ‘Stan’ started to look lost, Jack decided to remind him of who he once was before he came here. He told him once upon a time, he willingly decided to become evil. And it all deepens when he released a wicked witch spirit from a puzzle box which he had no idea she was even in there. When ‘Stan’ asked if there was a warning on it, Jack flatly answered “Hell no.” He continues with the short summary of what he did, what it almost happened, what everybody else did and lastly the final straw of the camel’s back where he almost died during the Cosmic Clash Showdown. ‘Stan’ had winced so much he thought the software would freeze up anytime.

 _“Where're your parents in all this!?”_ he exclaimed as Jack finished his story. Jack looked down and away frowned, “Either at work, at a meetup with friends or both.”  
“…I take it you didn’t have any friends of your own back then,” Jack wanted to be mad at ‘Stan’ than hearing his _pitying_ tone but he’s only a hologram so he can’t. He’s just thankful the living Stan won’t give him that. Jack then continued saying he knows his parents are attempting to make up for those lost years; that they’re _trying_ to be more attentive towards him. He gets enough of that from their family therapist. But the negative emotions remain plus there are times where he felt _awkward._

“So, they stepped in when you almost perished and forced you to leave the conflict for good?” ‘Stan’ inquiries. Jack shrugs, “Yeah, I told my mom about it; at least the abridged version. My dad’s… not very liberal on the supernatural.”

‘Stan’ lightly chuckles; hands took out carefully from his pockets to behind his back. “Heh, I understand that much. My parents didn’t believe me and my best friend when we said we saw a Jersey Devil in the Pines barrows. We even had photographic evidence!”

“Annoying, right? Even _with_ proof, they still think we’re nuts!” Jack exclaims then sighs, "Anyway, back to my parents… I guess what I’m trying to say is…" He rotates his flashlight. "I feel angry and happy and... disappointed. Like I shouldn’t give them a second chance so easily ya know? While at the same time I should forgive them." Jack looks up from the floor eyeing 'Stan' feeling insecure, "Is this normal?" The digital man nods gently, "It’s natural you should feel this way. You expected your parents to raise you as a family yet instead they offer you materials and money and left you mostly on your own. You wished they given you their time and day especially since you had no friends. And when they finally act upon it, it is when you were on the verge of death. Suddenly they start to care about you and give you their devotion. You were willing to receive because come what may, they’re still your family. I’m only impressed you survived as long you were able before they intervened."

Jack laughs rubbing the back of his head, "Me too! Guess I’m stubborn that way!"  
"Reminds me of my friend who tries so hard to impress his father." He remarks, "Never seem to work in his favor until he was signed up for boxing lessons. And even afterward it didn’t last long."  
"What was it you say your friend’s name again?"  
"Lee."

Ah yes, the famous Lee he occasionally talks about. His best friend who loves to make trouble, cheers everyone up including Stan and outwardly has parent blues; more specifically his father. Unlike Soos' dad who pretty much abandoned him altogether, it seems Lee's dad didn't see much worth in his own flesh and blood. Stan might be the only one of the guys who _didn't_ have issues with parents. Jack smiles bitterly, "Sounds like Lee would’ve been happier if he had _my_ parents. He’ll be able to do whatever he wants to a point where they have no choice _but_ to pay attention to him."

'Stan' responses in a ponder, "Probably..." he then arched a sly brow and smirks, "Don't get me wrong; I understand why you resort to trying conquering the world. I'm not giving you an excuse or approval."  
Jack scoffs, "I’m not the first who wants to rule the world and _tried_."  
"Too much to be done on your own."  
"Which is why I made an army of robots so when I _do_ rule the world, I’ll have them as my advisors."  
'Stan's' eye gleams with humor and amusement, "Based on your personality."

 _"Duh!"_ Jack smirks showing his teeth then subsided, "…Though it doesn’t matter anymore. There’s never gonna be a _‘when’_ let alone an _‘if’_." 'Stan' went still and gestures at Jack's watch. "You should probably head back to the house now. It’s getting late."

Jack checks his watch; it's almost midnight. He has a point, he doesn't know if his parents are still asleep or not. "Yeah, guess you’re right." He yawns and stretches as he got up. He went to the stairs.

"Queequeg?" Jack turns his head towards ‘Stan'. "…I think you would’ve liked Lee back then. You and he are so much alike. He could always use more companions other than me."  
Jack cocked his head, "I would’ve thought having you is enough."  
‘Stan’ smiles sadly, "Not always. Good night."

(The following morning, Jack's parents tried to have a conversation with him at breakfast in the diner. They told him Stan gave them advice on how to interact with him. Jack was relieved to know that he wasn't the only one feeling awkward. And they wound up enjoying each other’s company. Looks like he owes Stan big time.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And thus the Stan mix-up continues! Please Review!


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